


Fit For a Queen

by TheKeeper_of_TheSmut



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Genderbending, Loss of Virginity, Murder, Older Man/Younger Woman, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut/pseuds/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut
Summary: for the second prompt of nygmobblepot week au/crossover. I had exams and this is late.Edward has been the Riddler for nearly thirty years, when he met young Ostara Cobblepot. It's been two years since then and he helped her rise to be Queen of Gotham, but he also fell in love.





	Fit For a Queen

The streets of downtown Gotham are unusually quiet, save for the jaunty whistling of a tall, slim, well dressed figure. Gotham is a city that is always moving, though no one would call the gloomy, foggy city, with its sprawling Gothic architecture, lively. No, Gotham is a city that thrives in shadow. People rushing to and from during the day, heads down and shoulders tense. The tall figure interrupts his tune to chuckle. It was always best to keep your head down in Gotham, lest someone cut it off. However, if there was ever a time a city like Gotham could come alive it was after sundown.

The clubs opened, both the public-and therefore mundane- and the private, more risque, and only for the elite. The Underworld opened it's gates and all manner of criminal and ruffian spilled onto Gotham's surface. The comparison made the man smile fiendishly. The reason for the abnormal silence in what is normally the haunt of many mid-class criminals becomes apparent when the high whine of a police siren starts in the distance.

Deciding it would be best to get off the main streets, the shadowy figure ducks into a side alley. He's had Gotham's labyrinthine streets memorized since he was a child. His comfort in the dark side streets and back alleys shows as he makes his way swiftly to his destination. That's not to say he walked any faster than the causal stroll he'd had on the main road. His grip on the curved handle of his cane tightens, he has nothing to fear from the gaunt faced addicts and filthy vagrants.

He exits an alley behind an Italian restaurant and emerges into the more brightly lit and glittering Gotham Center. Aptly named for its location at the center of New Gotham. Across the imposing steel bridge is Old Gotham, which holds Arkham Asylum and several wealthy estates. Beyond that is the broken down Historic Center, the original heart of Gotham, now abandoned except for a few old shops.

Most of Gotham's elite hang out in the Center or Upper Side. In the distance he can see the new Wayne Tower, a new, more modern, replica of the old Wayne Enterprise Building in Old Gotham. Both New and Old Gotham have slums, and it seems like the poor and destitute forced to live there are doomed to look out and be mocked by the great glittering skyscrapers that the wealthy gather in. But he's not here to marvel at the skyscrapers and fancy stores and restaurants.

Instead he turns and disappears down into the subway. The employee behind the booth is a teenager, clearly stoned, and idly checking people's subway passes or one use tickets. It was laughably easy to slip past him and down onto the tracks. He stays close to the wall and taps it with his cane occasionally until he reaches a section of brick that makes a hollow, _thunk,_ when tapped.

He taps three times on the wall and a gruff voice asks him what his business is.

“Haven,” there's a moment of silence before the brick wall turns halfway. The slender man slips through the crack and tips his hat to the thug working the controls.

His analogy to the Underworld becomes more accurate as the narrow tunnel opens up to a wide cavern of dripping concrete. Gotham's sewers are connected to several hidden ante-chambers with access points all over the city. Half of it had collapsed during construction of New Gotham and an attempt had been made to explore the catacomb like tunnels.

However, the attempt failed when no safe entry points could be found. Luckily the less concerned with personal safety took it upon themselves to descend and map the tunnels. Using them as drug and illegal arms supply lines up until a year ago. It was nice to see his careful planning come to fruition. Haven, as it was known, was run by a select few individuals in the mob, who answered directly to one individual. It was a safe place for those who had certain arrangements with the proprietor.

The best black market doctors available, safe houses to stay in until the heat was off, illegal arms, carefully regulated drugs, sold only by those with permission and proof of said permission, and hitmen for hire. Haven was a criminal's spa retreat, providing they could provide something in return for the services provided. A select few were allowed here without need of payment and the man felt rather pleased that he was among them.

He wanders through the sparse crowd of mobsters hanging out until he reaches another opening in the wall. An old metal ladder leads up to a trap door hidden in a storage cellar of a quaint Russian Diner. Mob owned of course, and being paid a pretty penny for the use of its cellar. Lifting the trap door he's met with another enforcer, extra insurance for the Diner’s owner. The enforcer glances at him and moves out of the way allowing the man to slip out a back door and up a flight of steps. Back on the streets he now finds himself across from a four story brick townhouse.

A big blue neon sign in the shape of an iceberg is mounted on the roof and the words, ‘ _Iceberg Lounge’,_ are mounted in neon cursive script letters on the building's front. The line to enter wraps around the corner of the building and probably goes down the length of the street. The man adjusts his hat and straightens his tie before strutting across the street.

The Iceberg is one of New Gotham's “Seven Jewels”, second only to Wayne Tower. The club is a popular spot for the wealthy, politicians, and the mob. Some of Arkham’s finest also visited this location, which had the GCPD suspicious, but the club owner assured that they were only doing what a good business owner does. Refusing to serve someone because of past criminal activity without proper cause to believe they are currently involved in anything suspect is bad for business. Besides the common people of Gotham got a thrill from being able to brush elbows with the cities most wanted.

The allure of it was lost on him, but he relished in the awed whispers as he bypassed the line to approach the bouncer.

“Is that-?”

“It is!”

“Riddler!”

“He's even taller in person.”

“Do you think he'll ask a riddle?”

Riddler’s manic grin grew wider. Finally the recognition he deserved.

“Evening, Gabe,” he greeted the familiar face cheerfully.

“Hello, Mr. Riddler. Right this way sir, the boss has been in her office most of the night.”

He nodded in understanding and entered the club. The first level was storage, then the bar and stage, the third floor was a balcony with half of it sectioned off for VIP use only and the other half taken up by the Penguin’s office. Yes, The Iceberg was run by Gotham's own criminal King(or queen, as the case may be)pin. While it was well known that she ran the mob the GCPD had yet to provide hard proof that wasn't speculative or circumstantial. The fourth floor was the private penthouse suite, the elevator to which was behind the locked door of Ms. Penguin's office.

Her penthouse was smaller than most, opening into a kitchen that leads to the dining room on the left, a sitting room on the left, with a giant skylight taking up most of the ceiling and floor to ceiling windows, and if you kept going straight you'd reach the master bedroom, bathroom, and what was supposed to be a spare room, but had been converted into a boudoir.

The entire inside of the Lounge was decorated with white and blue fairy lights and hanging crystals that glinted in shades of blue, purple, and silver. The bar was ice encased in glass, the railing was iced over and covered in glass, the tables were frosted glass, the stairs were frosted glass, and the centerpiece was an ice sculpture. Arctic plants and flowers were also in various areas of the Lounge. Mr. Freeze had done a good job coordinating with Penguin and Ivy. Edward felt the cold settle in as he moved farther into the Lounge. He should have thought to bring a coat, but he’d been busy tonight and hadn’t wanted to risk stopping by his hideout to retrieve one.

He lifts a hand to his breast pocket and feels the reassuring weight of the object he’d “acquired” tonight. A gift, to mark a very special occasion. Tonight it would be two years exactly since he’d met Ostara Cobblepot, the Penguin. He’ll never forget the night he watched her subtly flirt with the unsuspecting crime boss in Fish Mooney’s club. The form fitting purple cocktail dress had emphasized her bust and wide hips and the low light brought out her bright blue eyes.

He’d noticed her working for Mooney for a while now and wondered what someone like her, someone who so clearly was capable of more, was doing working as an umbrella girl. He’d never had much to do with the mob, preferring his own form of organized chaos to the strict hierarchy of “career criminals”. However, on occasion they’d ask him to help them plot. Any chance to cause trouble, even small scale gang fighting, he gladly took.

He did know that everyone had to start somewhere, but he was pretty sure he’d seen her with Maroni a few times when helping him work out a shipping schedule. Not exactly the type of cutting edge scheming he was usually doing for the mob, but it gave him something to do in the down time between escapades. He followed at a distance as the man approached her at the bar, hand coming to cup her waist and lips pressed to her ear. Thinking back now makes his blood boil, but at the time he’d watched indifferently.

They slipped out a back service door into the alley, where the man pinned her to the rough brick wall and kissed her. Again, the idea of anyone handling Ostara that roughly has him itching to spill blood. He’d watched things progress and was beginning to lose interest when a sudden cut off cry of pain drew his attention. The man was clutching his side and the woman was smirking, bloody knife clutched in her hand. She shoved the man off her, and lunged, sinking the blade neatly into his neck with a wet squelch.

“Sorry sweetie, you’re not my type. But I do need something from you, you know how we women are.” She pulled the blade back out and went to remove his ring. His mob ring.

“You’ll have to prove it’s his. Anyone can walk in with a decent knock off mob family ring.”

The short woman jolted turning to face him with the knife drawn. Ed held his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Riddler. I figured you’d have heard of me.” She makes a face and eyes him up and down.

“I’ve heard of the Riddler, just didn’t expect you to dress like that.” He’s momentarily offended.

“Anyway, I’m Ostara. I work for Fish.”

“And Maroni, and Falcone, apparently.” He blinked and found himself against the wall with a knife to his throat. _Oh,_ but it had been a while since someone held him at knife point. And never someone so cute.

“Relax, I’m not going to rat you out. Now, I assume this man’s murder had a purpose. You want the ring, the ring shows you’re in charge. You need to make it believable. What do you use to hoe a row, slay a foe, and wring with woe?”

“Are you asking me a riddle? Of course you are, Riddler. Very cute.” She pauses to think

“A hand?”

“Correct! You want to prove you mean business, take his hand.”

“My knife can’t cut through his wrist.”

“Well then, allow me to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because, I have nothing better to do. And I find you interesting.”

That had been the night they struck a partnership. Ed would help her rise to be Queen of Gotham, and Ed got some decent entertainment and a chance to spread chaos. He hadn’t planned on falling in love though. Ostara was thirty, Edward was nearing fifty. He was never good at being social, and even worse at dating, considering his last and only relationship ended with him murdering her and going to Arkham. However, there was just something about the small woman with a short temper that got to him.

Maybe it was in the quiet moments, when they were plotting, or after a successful plan, when she was more vulnerable that he found appeal in. Before he knew what was happening they were getting to know each other beyond Riddler and Penguin. Ostara was probably the first person he felt safe enough with to open up to. He thinks the night he told her about his childhood is the night he realized he was in love with her.

He shudders at the phantom feeling of her arms around his neck, pulling him down into her so she could kiss his cheek.

“You deserved so much better.”

No one had ever told him that before. Now as he reaches the door to her office he’s ready to confess his feelings. He reaches for the handle and is stopped by a loud clattering noise on the other side. One quick glance around the balcony reveals her usual security isn’t around. He pushes a button on the wall, an intercom of sorts, and signals Zsasz.

“Yes, Green machine.”

“Really, Zsasz? Where is the balcony security?”

“They were up there ten minutes ago. Shift hasn’t changed, but you…..shit. Found ‘em,”

“Are they alive, because if they are, I’ll kill them myself.”

“Caught ‘em leaving through the service door in the back, they got cash. Boss lady ok?”

Ed doesn’t answer.

There’s a loud bang and a shout behind the door and Ed is seeing red. The only way to open the office door from the outside is an access key and only he and Zsasz have one. He pulls the key out from his inside jacket pocket and twists it in the lock.

The door flies open and the two figures in the room jolt at the loud noise. A clearly intoxicated man, that he vaguely recognizes as the son of the Lounge’s Advertising Manager, is pinning Ostara to the white leather couch. Her pistol she keeps under the desk has been knocked across the room and her umbrella stand full of trick umbrellas Ed designed and made himself has been knocked over.

Her face is being pressed into a cushion, turned partway to the side, and he can see part of a large red mark on her cheek, and he’s got her arms bent at an uncomfortable angle behind her back.

Ed is livid, he raises the gold head of his cane and brings it down on the back of the man’s head. Dazed, his grip weakens and he starts to tilt into Ostara, who is lying still, eyes wide with fear of what had almost happened. Ed yanks him off and onto the ground, kicking him onto his back and swinging the cane down to land with a satisfying _crack_. He vaguely registers the sound of Zsasz and a few others coming up the stairs, but is too absorbed in landing another blow to the wailing man’s ribs.

Another _crack_ accompanies the _thud_ of metal meeting flesh. Pressing a button on the side of the gold question mark on his cane he brings the tip down onto the wheezing  man's chest, right over his heart, electrocuting him. He pulls back, and watches, thoroughly satisfied with the twitching bleeding mess he’s made of the drunk. Twisting the head of the can releases the hidden blade in the bottom and he stabs down into the squirming wretch's chest, once, twice, three times before he stops moving.

“Zsasz, clean that up, tell his father he’s fired, and deliver those dimwitted security guards to my warehouse. I’ll deal with them later.”

“Of course. You ok, boss?” His voice is softer, no longer teasing. Ostara had sat up, hand cupping her bruised cheek.

“Fine, just having an off day. You know how my leg gets sometimes,” her voice is shakier than Zsasz and Ed have ever heard it.

“ 'Course boss, you take it easy. I’ll handle the Lounge for the evening.”

“Thank you, Victor.” Ed nods his appreciation to the hitman, he’s not sure when the black clad assassin and Ostara became friends, but the two have been pretty close for as long as he’s known Ostara.

He offers Os a hand, gently easing her off the couch. She’ll never admit it, but tonight's events have clearly shaken her. Ed goes to the elevator with his arm carefully around her and calmly puts in the code. They step in and are taken the short trip up to the penthouse.

Once the doors open he guides her to her bedroom and into the adjoining boudoir. Ostara smiles at him, but it's a forced one. She sets down in front of her vanity table and takes a deep breath to collect herself. The penthouse and her office are different than the rest of the Lounge. Instead of icy blues and whites the office and suite are decorated in tasteful black, grey, white, and silver. The only similarity is the purple and blue back lighting that casts cool and mellow shadows across everything.

“So sorry about that, my knee has been aching and he was a lot faster than I expected.” Her smile holds for a second before she’s tearing up.

“Damn!” She shrieks, tossing her feather capelet off.  “I’m not some weak damsel! I should have been able to deal with him. How is anyone going to take me seriously if I’m almost ra….assaulted in my own club.”

“Like you said, your knee hurt. On a good day you’d have handled it.”

“Don’t humor me, Ed.”

“I’m not. Well, not entirely. I fully believe you are capable of dealing with men like him on your own. So let’s just chalk tonight up to a bad day.”

He's seen her deal with mindless apes twice and sometimes three times her size. But it's almost always on her terms and she always has at least three backup plans. She must not have been expecting things to go wrong, which means that wasn't an official business meeting, she's always prepared for anything during those.

Ed briefly wonders what the man was doing in her office, but that train of thought has him itching to kill again, so he stops. It was clearly planned if the oaf had paid her security off, he may have been intoxicated, but he had known _exactly_ what he was doing.

Ostara smiles again, and cups his cheek.

“Thank you. Now, what brings you to the Lounge tonight? I thought you had big plans.”

Ed smiles and gets down to help her unstrap her champagne colored sandals.

“I did. My plan worked beautifully, as always.”

He takes her shoes and the capelet and puts them away in the proper places.

“Do you know what tonight is?” He asks, taking her chin and tilting her into the light to get a good look at her cheek.

“I think it might be the anniversary of something. Hmmmm, not the Lounge opening…..not the night I became Queen. I wonder, is it the night I murdered someone and you helped me chop his hand off?”

“It doesn’t sound near as romantic as I remember, but yes.”  
“Romantic? Edward, I’m fine,” she insists when he catches sight of the bruises around her wrist. Ed ignores her and goes to her bathroom to get some salve to rub on the bruising.

“Yes, I thought it was. Not near as nice as some of our other moments, but it's still special, since it was the first night we met.”

“I agree, but Edward, I don’t understand. Are you saying you felt that some of those moments were...romantic?”

“You didn’t?” He asks softly, kneeling down to reach her easier and rubbing the slave gently onto her swelling cheek. “I understand if you didn’t. You’re probably more interested in someone your own age.”

Ostara snorts. “Hardly, men my age only want one thing from me. But that’s not the point. The point is, I was unaware you harbored feelings for me. I’m afraid I’m at a loss here. I’ve never…”

“Never been interested in anyone?” She'd mentioned once before how she never had a romantic or sexual interest in anyone. Though she said sex doesn't repulse her, she just hasn't met anyone she'd be interested in doing it with.

He’d asked shyly if she had done anything on her own. He's still convinced the only reason she'd been so open to discussing the topic, which she brought up by asking Ed about his previous relationships, was because of her level of intoxication.  Ed was hardly inexperienced, but had only had the one relationship. Most people who slept with him were getting something out of it, but that had lost its appeal after his fortieth birthday.

Her answer had been that she didn't often feel the urge to, and when she did it often didn't feel as satisfying as she thought it should. He suggested perhaps that was because her own pleasure wasn't her focus.

“I suppose I'd have to find someone I wanted to sleep with before we test that theory,” she'd  laughed, cheeks pink, and eyes bright.

Ed sighs, and wipes his hand off on his pant leg. He removes his hat, flicking it to land on the dresser.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, Ed you shouldn't have.”

“I wanted to.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver chain, hanging on the end of it was a finely carved two headed eagle with sapphire chips for eyes. Clutched tightly in the bird's claws was an emerald about the size of a quarter.

“It belonged to Queen Catherine the Great. Her brooch was kept in the royal family and is on display in Russia  But this was stolen from her by a servant and wasn't found until it popped up in an antiques shop in Bulgaria. The Russian government decided they didn't want it and donated it to the World History Museum, it _was_ on loan to Gotham Historical Museum.”

Ostara marvels at the necklace. Reaching out to delicately run a finger over the silver.

“Edward it’s beautiful. You mean you planned that big museum heist just to get this for me?” Her voice was soft, awed.

“Only the best for you,” he replied in a whisper.

“I thought it was fitting, since she was one of Russia’s greatest rulers. They even called her Empress to the Tsar because of everything she accomplished, she brought the Russian Empire into the Golden Age. I thought it fitting for the Queen of Gotham.”

Ostara’s eye sparkle with unshed tears.

“Edward,” she chokes out, voice full of emotion.

“May I?” He asks, leaning forward and gesturing with the necklace. Ostara doesn't answer, but leans forward to give him access to her neck.

Unhooking the clasps on the chain Ed places it around Ostara’s pale, slender neck and fastens the clasps. Leaning back again Ed takes time to admire how she looks. He was right, the emerald brings out the green flecks in her eyes, changing them from a bright blue to seagreen.

Ostara turns towards the mirror, tilting her head back and to each side to admire the jewel from every angle. Edward can’t help himself and leans in to brush his lips across her bare shoulder. Ostara gasps but doesn't pull away, and as his lips travel up to her neck he can feel her leaning into it. He finds a sensitive spot and she gasps, tilting her head farther to give him more room.

He doesn't linger though, too tempted to mark the pale column of her throat and she hasn't told him he could yet. He drags his lips up to her ear and kisses it.

“You're stunning. That emerald brings out your eyes. But, I'm afraid no jewel will ever compare to your beauty.” Ostara lets out a breathy moan of his name.

“What do you want. Tell me and it's your. Anything for the Queen.”

“I-I d-don't…..I-” she cuts herself off, turning to press her lips to Edward’s in a clumsy kiss. Ed quickly adjusts them, cupping the cheek that isn't bruised and titling his own head.

Ostara let's him take the lead, hands curling into the fabric over his shoulders. Ed's other hand drifts to her waist, pulling her to the edge of her seat. Ostara pulls away first her eyes wide and cheeks bright red, making her freckles stand out.

“I don’t know what I'm doing, I'm not sure what this is, but I want you. Please, Ed.”

Ed groans, lips connecting to hers again. He slides his tongue across her bottom lip, delighting in the moan she releases in response. Hesitantly she parts her lips, unsure of what to do.

“Relax, you're doing fine.”

“Sorry,” she fidgets and Ed pulls back to look at her face more closely.

“Is this too much? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it's not that. I just....I'm afraid I won't live up to your expectations. I have no idea what to do, or how far I'll want this to go. I just.....I don't want you to be disappointed.” Edward leans in kissing her bruised cheek softly.

“You could never disappoint me. You're a beautiful young woman, I'm honored you even looked twice at an old man like me.” She giggles, running her glove incased nails through the greying hair at his temples. He’d noticed lately strands of grey popping up throughout his coffee colored hair, but it was worst at his temples.

“You're not that old, Eddie. Besides it makes you look distinguished. A proper gentleman.” Ed smiles, taking her hand from his hair and kissing over the elbow length black gloves. Feeling playful he takes the end of a finger between his teeth and pulls the glove off her arm.

She giggles again, though he also notices the flush that grows on her cheeks and across the tips of her ears. He removes the other glove in the same way and stands to put them away in the drawer with her others.

“Should I be concerned you know your way around my dressing room better than I do?” She teases.

Ed laughs and crosses back to her leaning down to plant another kiss on her lips. Her perfectly manicured nails tangle in the hair at the back of his neck and prevent him from pulling away. She pulls back after nipping at his bottom lip.

“Unzip me,” she prompts, turning so he can reach the zipper on her dress. He reaches for it, and slowly unzips her dress, savoring the sight of more pale flesh being bared for him. Ed moves back so she can stand up, breath stuttering and eyes locked on her back as the black evening gown slides down her body, leaving her standing in just her black lace panties. She bends to pick the dress up and his eyes drift down to her luscious ass. She drapes the dress across the nearby changing screen and turns to face Ed.

He wraps his arm around her waist and draws her into another kiss, feeling her warmth more directly without the satin gown in the way.

Her arms circle his shoulders pulling him down closer as he sucks on her bottom lip and nibbles gently. He feels her moan vibrate against his lips and his hips twitch.

“Hold on to me,” he whispers against her lips. He adjusts his grip to lift her into his arms, one arm around her upper back and the other hooked under her knees, like a groom carrying his bride.

“Ed!” She squeaks, tightening her grip. The blush spreads and she turns her head to pout up at him. He drops a kiss to her nose, laughing as she wrinkles it in response.

He carries her into the bedroom and sets her on the bed, crawling on top of her and pressing her back into the mattress. She squirms a little and plucks at his jacket.

“Aren't you going to get undressed?”

“Of course.” He sits up and slides the jacket off, tossing it to lay on the settee in the corner. Realizing he'll be able to strip faster if he stand ups he reluctantly untangles himself from the gorgeous woman beneath him. After removing everything but his boxers he climbs back onto the bed, moving so he's right in front of Ostara.

She's sitting up and fidgeting with the black and purple 3D rose comforter she bought for a ridiculous amount of money. He doesn't want to ruin it so he works to pull it down the bed without having to get back up. With that out of the way he pulls Ostara back to him kissing her slowly and working at her bottom lip again.

Os whines, pressing against Ed and twisting her fingers into his hair. Ed feels himself moan in return, captivated by the feeling of her large breasts pressed against him, soft and warm. He slides his tongue in slowly running it across hers and coaxing her into returning the gesture. She's hesitant, but eventually starts rubbing her own slick muscle against his.

“Mmm-ah!” His hand had moved to grip her hip, the other snakes around to cup her ass.

“Too much?” He pants when they part.

She shakes her head and pulls him down to lay on top of her. Ed's eyes roam over her, devouring the image of her flushed and panting, pupils blown and lips shiny and red. He faintly hears a keening noise and realizes it's him.

He buries his face in Ostara’s neck, lips immediately returning to the sensitive spot he found earlier and sucking. She cries out and digs her nails into his shoulders. He bites down, darkening the bruise he'd sucked into her skin. Kissing the spot softly afterward he moves down, leaving a series of possessive marks across her neck. Marks that can't be easily hidden.

By the time he's done her moans have increased in volume, turning into keening cries and he can feel her trembling against him. When he pulls away to admire his work he has to fight not to come immediately. Her eyes are half-lidded, charcoal lashes obscuring the thin ring of ocean blue that her widely dilated pupils have left behind. Her skin is shining with a sheen of sweat that has stuck her now messy hair to her forehead.

The necklace lands perfectly between her breasts, glittering under the blue lights that line her headboard. Something about seeing that necklace, a gift from him, touching her bare skin and rising and falling with her rapid breathing makes him feel alive. It's as much a mark of ownership as the hickeys he gave her. Ostara is  _his_ , and the thought inflames him.

“Ed,” it’s a plea, and her nails dig harder into his shoulders to keep him close.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? How sexy you look, lying there so nice and open and desperate for me. Do you know how long I’ve thought about doing this to you?” Ed slides his hands down her body, cupping the large pillowy breasts he’s caught himself staring at more than once.

He squeezes the mounds of flesh, watching her back arch to press more firmly into the touch. He devours her lips again, mapping the inside of her mouth and branding her taste into his brain. The kiss is broken when she throws her head back to shout.

“Ah! Ed, more. O-o-oh, please.”

Ed smirks and pinches her nipple again, enjoying watching her squirm.

“I’ve wanted to hear you beg like that for a while now. To kiss you, and touch you, and make you come screaming my name.” He’s not sure how much the dirty talk is affecting Os, but it’s doing wonders for him. All the nights he’d fantasized about making her ride him while he’s seated on that ostentatious throne chair she had in her office. Or in the Lounge, her nipples perked with the cold as they desecrate the glittering jewel he’s helped her build. They all swirl in his head, but pale in comparison to having the real thing under him, aching for his touch and vocalizing her enjoyment.

His lips trail lightly back across her neck to her collarbone, which he sucks at, tasting the salt on her skin. He continues his trail down to her breasts, lavishing each nipple with attention. He feels drunk, his head light and the world fading to background noise. The only thing he cares about in this moment is the taste of Ostara on his tongue, and her melodic cries of pleasure in his ears. The only thing anchoring him to his own body is her nails, clawing at his back and shoulders as she tries to ground herself while he pleasures her.

He's tempted to trace his tongue across the necklace, instead he presses a kiss to it, feeling the cool metal against his lips. He glances up at Os, wondering if she's noticed his fascination with the jewelry, but her eyes are closed. Her mouth is slack as a litany of pleasured cries come forth, ecstasy painted across every feature.

He’s not sure when he started but he becomes aware of his hips rolling down into her, the brief press of his cock against her warm wetness, even through the fabric of their underwear, sends bolts of electricity down his spine. He feels her hook her good leg around his hips and leverage herself up into his thrusts.

“Ed, Ed please….please, ooohhh,” she whines out, breathless. And how could he possibly say no to that.

He lifts himself up enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of her panties, noting distantly that they’re soaked, and pulls them down.

“Well, I think we just proved you do enjoy sex more with a partner.”

“Absolutely not now, Ed.”

Right, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Do you have a condom?” He feels sheepish asking, but he hadn’t exactly planned this. And given his knowledge of Ostara’s sexual nature, he hadn’t actually planned on this for quite some time.

“No,” she states sadly. “Damn it!”

“It’s ok, I have an idea. Just lay back and let me take care of you.” Ostara eyes him skeptically.

“What about you?” She asks, indicating the rather large bulge in the front of Ed’s boxers, and the obvious dark spot spreading from the tip.

“We can deal with that later.”

“But, I wanted to…” She looks away. Ed smiles softly, he thinks he understands the problem. Leaning up to her lips he kisses her softly, turning her back to face him.

“Trust me, watching you enjoy yourself like this is enough for me.”

“Can I touch you anyway?”

“Of course!” Ed shimmies out of his boxers, discarding them over the edge of the bed.

“How do you want me?”

“Lay back, like I was.” Ed nods and reclines against the headboard and lets Ostara straddle him, hands coming up to cup and squeeze her voluptuous thighs. She starts by leaning in, mouthing lightly at his neck.

“Hmmm, you can be rougher, I don’t mind.”

“I’m just getting started,” she huffs, giving him a sharp nip on the corner of his jaw, He cries out, hips twitching. He can feel the wicked grin spreading on her lips where they’re still pressed against his neck. She bites him again, lower, closer to his jugular, pulse thundering and filling his ears with a rushing noise, and laughs at his high pitched whine. He's positive she felt it too, his erotically beating heart, from where her lips had pressed against the vein biting down. Not as harshly, but hard enough to leave a faint sting that vanished all too quickly.

“Why Eddie, I never pegged you for a masochist. I should have known,” she teases. She does her best to replicate his actions earlier, but he can still sense the hesitance, and she’s not nearly so confident in her lovebites. He thinks she might be worried about biting him too hard and him bleeding, maybe he should tell her he wouldn’t mind that.

Her hands come up, scratching lightly down his chest and pinching at his nipples. Ed groans, slumping against the headboard and letting her claw and nip and kiss her way across his chest and stomach until he feels her warm breath on his thighs.

“Fuck! I didn’t think you’d-ah!” She swipes her tongue over his cock, sucking at the tip before pulling off.

“I just wanted a taste, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.” Ed smiles and beckons her back up. She crawls back up to lay on his chest. Before she’d simply nipped each nipple lightly before kissing it, now she envelops one into her mouth, sucking roughly. Ed cups the back of her head, fingers tangling into the short hair there and anchoring her to him. She nips on the pebbled bud again, sucking a sweet kiss to it and pulls off with a pop. The nipple is bright pink and puffy after her ministrations. She switches to the other, propping herself up on her elbows to rock against the erect cock between her thighs.

Ed places a hand on her hip and has her roll to her side, her mouth detaching from his chest with another wet sound. He turns to face her and slides his hand down her thighs, cupping one and guiding it to hook over his hip.

Ostara seems to realize where he’s going with this and hides her face in his neck.

“Don’t, I want to see you,” he whispers, other hand tracing her cheekbone. She turns her head and hisses a little in pain when her bruised and swollen cheek touches the mattress. Ed growls, absolutely livid that someone had dared hit her.

“I should have killed him slower.” Ostara kisses his cheek, attempting to calm him.

“Thank you for rescuing me, my hero.” Ed laughs, and skates his fingers in between her thighs, brushing across the hot wetness he finds there.

“Ah!” He slowly massages the hardened pink bud, sliding one long finger back to tease her entrance. Ostara whimpers, rocking her hips slightly.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he rasps into her ear. She nods, slipping her other leg, the one with the damaged knee between his.

Adjusting to keep his weight off it he aligns his erection with it and grinds his hips forward. He kisses her again, swallowing the cries of passion as he starts gently easing his fingers into her entrance and pumping. Clearly she hasn’t done much in the past, but that was ok. He isn’t sure how to ask if her “cherry has been popped” without ruining the mood, but he also doesn’t want to push in too quickly and cause her discomfort.

He slides his fingers in farther, two of them working inside to bring her pleasure while his thumb rubs her clit. He’s in up to his second knuckle before he feels her tense up.

“Ok?”

“Yeah, just, you know.” He does indeed know, and he supposes that answers his question.

He pulls his fingers out a bit and starts probing at the sides of her dripping cunt until he finds what he’s looking for. Ostara bucks wildly, pressing her thigh hard up against his cock. He can’t help but to buck against her, jerking his fingers roughly inside her to send her rocking back into him. They work up a rhythm of him roughly pressing his fingers in, his thumb circling her clit, and rubbing against the sweet spot inside her.

She gyrates her hips as much as she can, pressing her thigh against him and prompting him to thrust against her. Given her inexperience it doesn’t take long before she’s practically sobbing, hips rocking desperately and toes curling. He puts more pressure on her clit, rubbing it harder and fasters, and kisses her neck, sucking on the sensitive spot he’d marked earlier.

“Ed! Oh, oh my-agh!-God, fuck! I-I-Mmmahhh! Shit!” His hand is drenched in her sweet nectar as she comes, head tossed back and body quivering.

He quickly rolls her onto her back, latching onto her lips and letting go just as quickly to suck and nip at her breasts again.

His hand is still clamped around her thigh, and she brings the other one closer, pressing them together and trapping Ed's leaking cock between them. He glides in between her thick, creamy thighs for several more lunges before his hips falter. He presses as tight against her as he can, muffling his cry of her name in her tits.

They stay like that, panting and shaking for several minutes before he gets up.

“Where are you going,” She asks, sounding panicked. Ed leans over and kisses her forehead to reassure her.

“To get something to clean up with, and then I thought I’d order us some chinese takeout. Any requests?”  
“No, I’ll eat anything if it’s from that one place in Midtown. Chester’s Chinese,”

“Honestly, such a distinguished lady of high society and you eat Chester's.”

She throws a pillow at him as he walks away.

“You’re the one that showed me Chester’s, or are you actually going senile.”

Edward laughs loudly from her bathroom.

 

 

 

The rest of the night is spent cuddling in their underwear, (he’s glad he took up the habit of keeping spare clothes at her penthouse, though he can’t remember why), and eating greasy Chinese takeout. It’s late, or rather early morning before they settle down to sleep. Ostara is curled into Ed, small, and sweet, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. He nuzzles a kiss into her hair and sighs contently.

“Ed,” she says, voice heavy with sleep.

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.” If he wasn’t so tired he’d be leaping for joy and exclaiming his joy from her outdoor deck, connected to the living room that overlooks Gotham. As it is he just grins like a lovesick loon and whispers back, “I love you, too, Ostara.”

It’s the best sleep he’s gotten in decades.


End file.
